


Losing to James

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Potter Family, Pre-Canon, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: James is brilliant at everything and Albus isn’t. It’s just not fair.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written partly because I realised I’d spent way too much time thinking about baby Scorpius and not enough about little Albus, and partly thanks to an anonymous tumblr prompt. 
> 
> Beta'd by brief_and_dreamy.

Albus can never win. James is better than him at everything and he hates it. It isn't that Albus is bad as such, although he feels like it sometimes (a lot of the time), it's just that James is ultra competitive and somehow brilliant at everything without even trying. 

One morning Albus is practicing his handwriting in the kitchen and James waltzes up and peers over his shoulder. 

"It's all blotchy. And all your letters look like a spider's crawled across the page." He tickles the back of Albus's neck, making Albus shudder and duck away.

"James!" He's smudged the ink with his sleeve as he jumped. "You can't do it any better. Mum says your writing's awful." 

"Oh yeah?" James snatches the quill from Albus's hand. "Budge." He squeezes in next to Albus and starts writing his name in neat rows across the bottom of the bit of parchment. 

Albus folds his arms on the table and puts his chin down miserably. "You're two years older than me. Of course yours is neater." 

"You said I couldn't do any better though! But see, I can. And I bet you won't be able to do it so well when you're my age." 

"Yes I will. Go away, James." He elbows James hard and snatches the quill back. James sits down on the chair next to Albus, tilts his head back, and hollers.

"Daaaad! Albus hit me!" 

"I did not!" Albus yells. "He's annoying me!" 

James shoves him, Albus shoves back, and by the time Harry comes running in from the garden, hair all a mess and grass stains on the knees of his jeans, they're wrestling on the ground. 

"Boys!" Harry calls over the noise. "James, get off him. Albus, get up off the floor." He starts toward them and James gets up, releasing Albus who rushes to his feet, cheeks flushed with rage.

"Dad, I was trying to do my handwriting and James ruined it."

Harry puts his hands in his pockets and looks at James. "What do you have to say for yourself?" 

"He hit me," James says. "And look!" He pulls his trouser leg up and shows Harry a big yellow bruise. 

Harry sighs heavily. "You got that playing Quidditch the other day. I don't appreciate you lying to me, James. Go up to your room and think about what you want to say to your brother and to me." 

James pouts. "But I-"

"Go on. Or you're not playing Quidditch tonight." 

James goes. He stomps up the stairs and they hear his door slam. 

Albus goes to the table and picks his quill up. "It's bent now..." 

"Albus..." Harry leans against the back of a chair. "You shouldn't fight with him. I know he's trying to bait you but you should just ignore him."

"He was making fun of my writing," Albus says. "He's just so much better at it. It's not fair." 

Harry comes over and puts a hand on his shoulder. "You write just like me."

Albus brightens instantly and looks up at him. "Do I?" 

Harry nods and grins. "Yeah. Look, my mum did her i's like that too." He ruffles Albus's hair, and Albus ducks but can't stop smiling. 

"I-I'll keep practicing then." 

"Definitely." Harry looks down and gives him a little nod. 

Albus picks his quill up and sits determinedly back at the kitchen table. 

 

It's a few days before James irritates him again. He has to behave properly over weekends because if he doesn't he won't be allowed to go and play Quidditch. As soon as Monday comes, though, all bets are off.

Albus and James are messing around in the garden with a training Snitch (which James claims is far too boring but they've lost the last three real ones so Harry has banned them outside of family games). Their brooms are locked away while Harry is at work and Ginny is inside with Lily so they're just running after the Snitch. It isn't especially fast so they give it a ten second head start and then go sprinting after it, which involves a good deal of elbowing and shoving. 

James is faster and bigger and stronger so Albus never beats him. Even if he gets a good start James will just trip him or barge him aside. Albus gives as good as he gets, but it's never enough. Even when he manages to send James sprawling sideways into a tree James just grabs onto him and takes him down too so they end up in a heap, the snitch hovering in place, waiting for them. 

On about the tenth attempt Albus gets a really good start. When he can get away from James he can move really fast, so he sprints as hard as he can down the garden, James hot on his heels. Albus can see the Snitch, its wings glittering in a shaft of light spilling through the canopy of the most gnarled apple tree. He puts on an extra burst of speed and dives forward, but as he does James leaps and tackles him from behind. 

They both fall. They hit the ground hard, Albus throwing his hands out for protection, and as James collapses on top of Albus there's a horrible crack and Albus screams in pain. 

Immediately James jumps off him. "Albus... I didn't mean..." He crouches down on the ground next to him. Albus looks up at him, slightly bleary with pain. James's face has gone very pale. "Mum! Mum, please! Albus is hurt!" He sounds slightly hysterical. 

It takes a couple of seconds before Ginny comes bursting from the house and runs towards them. "What happened?" 

"We were chasing the Snitch, and Albus- I was just trying to get him out of the way." 

Albus's wrist is searing with pain, so much that he doesn't really care about the conversation going on above him. He just wants to lie as still as possible and not make it hurt anymore. But then he feels his mum's hands gently lifting him into a sitting position. 

"Your wrist? That's definitely broken." 

Albus sniffles. James starts to cry.

"I'm sorry. I-I didn't want to- I was just-" he buries his face in his hands and starts sobbing. 

Ginny sighs. "Go inside and wait with Lily. We'll have a chat when I get back, okay?" James cries harder, but he gets to his feet and starts walking back to the house, while Albus feels himself be manhandled upright. 

"Your grandma can fix this in a second," his mum says gently. "Don't worry. How much does it hurt?" 

"Lots," Albus mumbles, leaning against her. 

Walking down the garden to the Burrow is painful and slow, but Grandma Molly does sort his wrist out almost immediately. He spends the rest of the afternoon curled up the sofa at home, sleeping off the residual pain. His mum and James's quiet voices float through to him from the kitchen, and Lily sits by his feet and reads a book for a bit. He's still half dozing when he feels a gentle hand ruffle his hair.

"Dad," he murmurs, slowly opening his eyes. 

Harry crouches down beside him. "I heard you got your first Quidditch injury. There'll be plenty more of those. You know one time at school a rogue Bludger broke my arm and then one of my teachers vanished all the bones in it and I had to have them regrown?" 

Albus blinks sleepily at him. "Really?"

Harry nods. "Not an experience I'd recommend. Can I see?" 

Albus holds his arm out, and his dad's fingers close around it, gentle, warm. It doesn't hurt anymore. 

"Looks good as new," Harry says. "Your gran did a good job." 

Albus nods. 

"We've talked to James," Harry continues. "I think he's really sorry. There won't be anymore unsupervised Quidditch in the garden of course. You three will have to find something else to entertain you." 

Albus rolls onto his side with a little sigh. He wraps his arms round himself and stares down at the floor. "Dad? I just wanted to catch the Snitch once. I nearly had it." 

Harry smiles and ruffles his hair. "We'll make a Seeker of you yet." 

"I suppose," Albus mumbles. He pulls the blankets up under his chin. "When will dinner be ready?" 

"Not long. You get a last bit of rest. I call you when it's done." 

 

The ban on Quidditch means they play an awful lot of games over the next couples of weeks. Albus's least favourite is Gobstones. He's pretty awful at it, but James loves it, and since he refuses to play Wizard's Chess because he thinks it's boring, Albus doesn't have much choice. 

They sit at the kitchen table, both kneeling on their chairs and peering at the stones in the middle of the table. James's eyes are sparkling and he grins every time he spots a good move. All Albus can do in response is brace himself for the inevitable sprays of foul smelling liquid that keep coating his face. There's so much of it by this point that it's begun to drip slowly down onto his t-shirt, making him shiver miserably. 

He keeps playing though. Giving up would be admitting defeat, and he doesn't want to give James that satisfaction. Plus it's worth it for the couple of times James gets squirted instead. Seeing his brother get hit in the face by a whole load of disgusting inky black goop never fails to be entertaining. 

Albus isn't enjoying it though. Not even a little bit. He just sits there miserably and puts up with it, wishing he could leave or make James go away. It's demoralising, being beaten all the time. He hates it, but being better than James isn't something that's ever going to happen so he has no choice. 

It's a relief when they hear Ginny calling from upstairs. 

"James! Come up here!" 

James groans. "I already cleaned my room, Mum!" he shouts back. 

"Not well enough!" comes the reply.

James drags himself out of his seat and thumps his way out of the kitchen, leaving Albus sitting there alone, cold and wet and unhappy. Albus puts his elbows on the table and buries his face in his hands. 

He isn't crying. He isn't. If his eyes are a bit watery it's just from the stinging liquid that's been dribbling into them for the last couple of hours. He slumps down and rests his forehead against the table, wraps his arms over his head, and feels sorry for himself. 

In the darkness of his miserable little cave he has no idea how much time has passed. He doesn't particularly care as long as James doesn't come back and start making fun of him. Probably he should go and clean himself up, but it's easier just to sit here. He doesn't even move until he hears the back door open and he jumps and looks up. 

His dad is letting himself into the kitchen. He looks a bit frazzled, hair a mess, glasses askew. He kicks his shoes off, dumps his cloak on a hook, and finally turns round.

"Hi dad," Albus says quietly. 

"Hello Albus. Are you okay? Has James been beating you at Gobstones again?" Harry gives a slightly tired smile and runs a hand through his hair. 

Albus nods and bows his head. He can feel the tears welling up again and he quickly scrubs them away. 

Harry pauses halfway across the kitchen and looks at him. "You're not okay." He comes over and sits at the table across from Albus. "You're a mess too. Here." He draws his wand and flicks it in Albus's direction. Immediately all the stinking liquid disappears, leaving Albus feeling considerable less awful, but still rather cold. He hugs himself and shivers. Harry waves his wand again and a good deal of warmth sinks into Albus's bones. 

Albus puts his feet on the chair and pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to hold all the warmth in as much as he can. "Thanks," he mumbles. 

"What's up?" Harry asks. "You're thinking about something."

Albus rests his chin on his knees and sighs. "It's unfair. James is so good at everything. He always beats me. I'll never be as good as him, and he knows it. I'm... I'm not good enough." 

Harry frowns and leans toward him. "Not good enough for who?" 

He glances up at his dad, then looks away again. He shrugs. 

"Albus..." Harry says quietly. He gets up and walks round to table. "Look at me." 

Albus looks up very briefly, then away again, this time chewing his fingernails. "I'm not though. James is... he's  _James._ And I'm... I'm me."

Harry crouches down and puts his hands on Albus's shoulders. "Yes, you are you, and that's great. I wouldn't change that for the world, yeah?" He gives Albus the tiniest shake, and Albus looks up at him properly. 

"James is great at a lot of things," Harry continues. "But  _so are you_. James won't play Wizard's Chess with you, will he?" 

Albus considers for a second, then shakes his head. "No. Because he thinks it's boring." 

"Because he can't beat you," Harry corrects. "Because you," he points at Albus's chest. "You're better than him. You're also better behaved, I've never had to tell you off for having a messy room. You're great in the kitchen, James just burns everything. You always try. You want to be better. You want to do well, and I think... I think you're a pretty great kid."

"Really?" Albus asks, voice tiny and unconvinced.

"Yes," Harry says firmly. "Yes, really."

Albus shuffles in his seat. "But..." He sighs.

"But?" Harry prompts. 

Albus shakes his head. "No. I-I don't know." He looks down at his feet for a moment, then up at his dad. "Thank you." 

Harry squeezes his shoulders tightly. "You are a good son, Albus Severus Potter. I want you to remember that. And I don't want you to be like James. You're great just the way you are, okay?"

"Okay," Albus mumbles, a little glow of a smile finally breaking onto his face. 

Harry grins. "There you go." He ruffles Albus's hair and gets up. "Do you want to help me with dinner?"

"Alright," Albus says. He glances down at his top. "I should probably change first... James is really good at Gobstones." 

Harry laughs and hugs him. 

As Albus climbs the stairs he feels an awful lot better about things, and the sound of James storming around in his messy room just improves his mood even more. Maybe his dad is right. He's good in his own ways. And James is really annoying. Who'd want to be like him anyway? 


End file.
